


Again and Again

by xyrilyn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mild Descriptions of Blood and Gore, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyrilyn/pseuds/xyrilyn
Summary: "I'm tired of going through the motions. There's nothing keeping me here... Not this case... Not my partner... I don't belong here any more."- Hank Anderson's perspective of the "I'll Be Back" achievement timeline/universe.





	Again and Again

**Author's Note:**

> Please see the archive warnings and the warnings in the tags. If you're here, then you know what's going to happen anyway.
> 
> Here's my second contribution to the DBH fandom. Here's where I usually say: "thank you for reading", but I don't think you'll appreciate that by the time you reach the end.

"You leave me no choice," Connor's voice rang out a moment before he reached forward to grab the deviant's arm. Hank noticed how Connor's hand had turned white, and how the deviant flinched and screamed as if in pain. The moment lasted for only a few seconds. When Connor moved his hand away, both androids seemed to snap out from a trance.

The deviant trembled. Connor glanced at the two-way glass. His heart skipped a beat when Connor's eyes met his directly. It wasn't possible for him to see through the glass - Connor probably memorised his location, that show-off.

"I accessed its memory. I know what happened," he said loud enough for everyone to hear, but he kept his gaze on Hank.

When Connor turned back, he looked at the deviant. The deviant stared back. With calculated movements, and without ever tearing his gaze away from the deviant, Connor walked around the table to place one hand on the deviant's back before leaning in. His back was facing him so Hank couldn't see what Connor was doing.

"You'll go back to CyberLife to be disassembled. It's better this way."

Hank shivered from the lack of emotion in Connor's voice. The contrast between how he normally spoke with Hank, and how he spoke with the deviant, was staggering. When Connor straightened, he looked at Hank again. Hank caught a brief moment when Connor's expression looked strained, before a cold mask took its place and the expression disappeared. For a moment, Hank thought he had imagined it.

Connor opened the door to leave. The deviant began slamming his head onto the metal table, rattling the chains around its wrists.

"It's destroying itself..." Hank muttered.

They tried to get it to stop. Hank saw the deviant's hands reach for the officer's gun and his heart sank.

The scene unfolded before him in slow motion. Bringing the gun up and over, it pointed it straight at Connor. And then it pulled the trigger.

Hank didn't hear the second shot. He watched as Connor collapsed to the floor. His ears rang from the silence that filled the room so suddenly. He glanced at the deviant. The deviant had committed suicide.

Walking over to where Connor's body rested, Hank was about to pull him closer when Gavin began spewing profanities and kicked Connor's unmoving body into the wall. Hank felt his blood boil with anger - he never wanted to so badly punch the living daylights out of another human being before, until now. And he was about to do it, too, until he remembered that Connor was gone. What was the point?

His anger drained out of him, leaving him inexplicably hollow. He was not going to watch them throw Connor's body into the trash - for surely that was what they were going to do.

Instead, he left the station and drove to Jimmy's Bar where he could drown his sorrows in alcohol. He took his usual seat by the bar. The memory of Connor buying him a drink hit him full force. He gritted out an order. A glass full of amber liquid was slid into his view. No one dared to question him when his shoulders began trembling. No one came for him when he finished his thirteenth glass. Connor wasn't here any more.

.

.

.

It was as if everything that happened yesterday was simply a dream.

A Connor look-alike was standing by his desk when he came into the station. How long had the android been standing there?

"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife," Connor said to him.

Even the bastard's introduction was the same. "God, I saw you get shot in the head last night..."

Connor didn't miss a beat. "My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed, but CyberLife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it. This incident should not affect the investigation."

"Jesus..." Did that mean Connor could just keep coming back...? How much did this version of Connor remember? Hank couldn't erase the scene of Connor's body in the corner of the interrogation room from his mind. No one deserved to die like that.

After the verbal shitstorm that happened in Captain Fowler's office, Hank returned to his desk, with Connor in tow. He refused to look at the fucking android. He crossed his arms, thinking about how he was going to react around Connor. This Connor was so similar to the Connor he knew before. He wanted to ask if he remembered everything from before. He wanted to grab Connor by the shoulders and ask if he remembered dying.

"Listen, I know you don't like me, but we're going to have to work together," Connor tried to reason with him, "we'll both have to make an effort."

Hank shook his head. Connor had it wrong. Up until last night, Hank was beginning to get used to Connor's painfully blunt statements, his strange, standoffish demeanour, coupled with his inability to give any fucks about what other people said about him. Hank missed that version of Connor. He didn't know if this version of Connor was the same Connor.

As they chased yet another deviant around the city, Hank looked at his side, fully expecting Connor to be there.

And there Connor was, as he should be.

When Connor began attempting to climb the wire fence, Hank grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Hey! Where you goin'?"

Connor's single-minded focus on accomplishing his mission was going to be the death of him. _Again._ Hank was not going to stand by and let him rush into his death.

"I can't let them get away," Connor replied, eyes never leaving the escaping duo currently crossing the highway.

Hank was quick to convince him otherwise. "They won't! They'll never make it to the other side." Don't be stupid, Connor. Listen to me. _Listen to me, please._

"I can't take that chance."

Those were the last words Hank would ever hear from this Connor.

When Connor tried to climb, Hank pulled him back. "Hey, you will get yourself killed!" Panic slowly consumed him. Hank knew those eyes. Those eyes meant that Connor would not give up until he accomplished his mission. Hank held onto Connor tightly, refusing to let go. "Do _not_ go after 'em, Connor, that's an order!" Don't go, Connor, _don't go_.

Hank could only watch when Connor shrugged off his grip and scaled the fence so quickly that he could hardly react in time. He could only watch as a truck drove at full speed over Connor's body, splattering the roads with so much blue. The scene almost made him vomit.

Later, when some workers from CyberLife came to retrieve any debris, they returned empty-handed. Whatever that was left had been run over so many times that the pieces were impossible to retrieve.

That night, Hank bought even more alcohol and brought it back home. He ruffled Sumo's head once. Then he went to the kitchen. It was going to be a long night again, it seemed.

.

.

.

He woke up crying, the following morning. He had dreamt of Connor dying. Again.

The dream was so vivid, so real. The image of Connor's still body was still fresh in his mind when he laid eyes upon Connor again.

Hank felt like crying. A part of him was furious that Connor treated his life with so little value. Another part of him was relieved that Connor was back with him again. And yet another part of him simply wanted him to go away, to go back to CyberLife, where Connor wouldn't be at risk of dying again. He didn't want to be the reason for Connor's death, not again.

It wasn't fair that androids couldn't stay dead. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, _it wasn't fair_. Why him? What did he do to deserve all of this?

He fell back on the one emotion that he could rely on. Anger had been a constant companion throughout his life. Anger was familiar territory. Anger kept him from slipping into the abyss, where cold, dark nights awaited him at the bottom of a beer bottle, where the shadows lingered at the corners of his imagination, whispering nonsensical words into his ear.

"What the fuck...?"

"Sorry, Lieutenant. It took me a while to find you."

Connor stood before him, perfectly whole. Not scattered along the road in pieces. His uniform was perfect in every way. His brown eyes were bright and shining, full of life, not glazed over and dead. For a split moment, he imagined Connor covered in blood from head to toe, with three large puncture wounds through his chest and abdomen. When he blinked, the bloody image his mind had conjured, disappeared.

"Are you gonna come back like this every time you get killed?" Hank refused to let his voice waver.

Conner replied with the same message as before. Hank was beginning to get sick of hearing the same thing, over and over and over again.

Hank scoffed. "Not affect the investigation? I just saw you get... _hit by a truck_! Now you come back like if nothing happened!"

"A machine was destroyed. And another machine was sent to replace it," Connor replied in a flat tone. "I don't understand what's bothering you."

Concise and straight to the point as usual. It was the one thing all his Connors had in common. Hank was done. He couldn't deal with this, not right now. "Okay, fuck you."

He left it at that.

.

.

.

It was funny how much the universe hated him. His mind was foggy from all the alcohol and sleep deprivation, and this was what it decided to conjure for him.

"I could kill you..." he began saying, "and you would just come back as if nothing happened."

He looked at this Connor his mind had created for him. He was surprised by how much detail he remembered about Connor's appearance. This imaginary Connor stared at him with no hesitation, as if there wasn't a barrel of a gun being aimed at his forehead.

"But are you afraid to _die_ , Connor?"

Connor's face may not betray his true emotions, but his eyes - those eyes - _did_. Hank could see genuine fear in them. This... wasn't what he expected. And neither were the words Connor said next.

"I would certainly find it regrettable to be... interrupted... before I can finish this investigation."

Hank wasn't sure if this was just his imagination now. This Connor... reacted differently. But it didn't matter, in the end. It wasn't the Connor he knew. The Connor he knew was dead, and only he remembered him for who he truly was. This Connor... was a fake. A doppelganger without any soul.

"What will happen if I pull this trigger, hm? Nothing? _Oblivion_? _Android heaven_?" he gritted out, eyes never leaving that familiar face.

Connor glanced away for a brief moment. "I doubt there's a heaven for androids." Hank thought he'd sounded sad.

Fuck this. Why was he even wasting his breath with this walking piece of plastic. "Having existential doubts, Connor? Sure you're not going deviant too?"

"I self-test regularly. I know what I am, and what I am not."

For a moment, Hank wished he could do the same. It must seem so simple for someone like Connor. It was so easy for him to know what he was, and what he wasn't. He'd lowered his gun at this point.

Then, Connor's words about ruining the investigation echoed in his mind. In a fit of anger, Hank raised the gun.

He regretted it the moment he pulled the trigger.

Connor's body fell to the ground in a heap. Those brown, lifeless eyes stared up into the slate-gray sky, seeing nothing. Hank put away his gun with trembling hands, and reached for another bottle.

"Why did you have to say those things, _Connor_ ," Hank began mumbling, "what happened to the _Connor I knew_? Give him back, _give him back_... I can't keep losing you like this, I can't, _I can't_..."

Burying his head in his hands, Hank cried.

.

.

.

"Why did you shoot me last night?"

That answered one of his questions, at least. "Who cares, you're back this morning, aren't ya?" Hank was tired. His words didn't have that much bite.

"Some fragments of memory are lost every time I'm destroyed. It slows down the investigation," Connor stated matter-of-factly, without any emotion whatsoever about being shot in the head.

That just confirmed that this Connor wasn't the first Connor he knew. His Connor was gone... just like Cole.

"My humblest apologies, I promise I'll never shoot you again," Hank said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." But of course, Connor didn't understand sarcasm. He never did.

He couldn't bring himself to look at Connor, so he turned away and focused on other things in the investigation. He heard Connor walk away.

After checking with the officers upstairs, Hank returned downstairs. That stupid android was nowhere in sight. Where had he gone now...?

Walking into the pantry, he heard ragged breathing and his heart nearly stopped at the sight that met him. Connor was on the ground, crawling towards the door, bleeding everywhere from a gaping hole in his abdomen.

"Connor!"

On instinct, he ran over to Connor's side. "Hang on son, hang on, hang on! We're gonna save you, hang on...!" He turned Connor onto his back and pulled him closer. He brought a hand up to stop the bleeding, but stopped when he realised that wouldn't work. Connor wasn't human. He wasn't bleeding from the void in his chest. The LED at his temple flickered red, almost dying out, and he had no idea what to do.

Connor looked up at him, struggling to keep his gaze on Hank. "-deviant... There was... a deviant..." Connor's words trailed off as Hank felt his body slowly shutdown. Connor's eyes were focused on Hank and only on Hank. A few seconds later, those brown eyes went unfocused, drifted closed, and his body went still.

"Connor!" he called one more time, but there was no response. Hank shook his body, despite knowing in the back of his mind that it was futile. "Connor... No..."

This Connor hadn't done anything wrong. He was simply doing his own thing, doing what he was programmed to do, not knowing anything else. Hank would never know if this version of Connor had the same quirks as the other Connors, if he had dreams, hopes, wishes...

Connor once told him that androids couldn't feel pain. He looked like he was being tortured just now. That image had burned itself into his mind's eye - he couldn't un-see it. As he stared down at Connor, the first thought that came to mind was how peaceful he looked in death. Like the other Connors, this Connor would not be getting a funeral. This Connor was simply going to be replaced with another Connor, and this Connor would then be forgotten with time.

Before that happened though, Hank would stay with him for as long as he could. Pressing a hand to the top of Connor's head, he stroked it, as he had done for Cole in the past, and pulled Connor closer so that he was resting on his lap. Hank could almost pretend Connor was sleeping, blissfully unaware of all the suffering that existed in this cruel, ruthless world.

When the officers came in to take Connor away, he growled at them, clinging onto Connor's body. He refused to let them have him. He refused to let them take away his son's body!

The fact that they gave up after only a few tries showed how little they cared. They all stared at him, not bothering to offer any help, as he painstakingly moved Connor into his car to bring him home. Once home, he began putting Connor back together. The... circular thing that was supposed to go into his chest was broken, but he put it back where it belonged anyway. He began cleaning off all the blue blood. He buttoned up his clothes and fixed his hair. He didn't know what to do with Connor after that, so he left the boy lying on his bed.

He moved his alcohol into the bedroom. Sumo followed him, whining. He sat down by the bed and opened a fresh bottle. Sumo wrapped himself around him. He drank until he could drink no more. He fell asleep still holding Connor's cold, dead hand.

.

.

.

He woke up the next morning with a Connor who was not alive any more in his bed. He stared at his face, committing everything to memory. If there was an android heaven, he hoped all the Connors got along with each other. He wouldn't be around to be a mediator for them.

When he walked into the station that day, he walked in with a plan. He strode directly into the Captain's office and surrendered his gun and badge.

"I'm tired of going through the motions. There's nothing keeping me here... Not this case... Not my partner... I don't belong here any more."

Later that night, the current Connor dropped by his house.

Hank panicked when he saw Connor come in. He had left his door unlocked, but he didn't expect Connor to come visit him. Hank prayed to whatever gods watching over him that Connor didn't look into the bedroom. He didn't think he would be able to explain who was on his bed.

He had made sure Sumo had all the food he needed. He left the television on so that Sumo wouldn't be disturbed by the silence.

Connor walked up to him. He made no comment of the things currently laid out on the dining table.

"I was worried about you, Lieutenant," Conner said, tilting his head just slightly to one side, like he would whenever he was unsure. "I came by to see if you're all right."

Hank's throat felt too constricted. He wanted to say goodbye, one last time. Instead, he remained silent. Perhaps, it was better this way. He didn't want Connor to feel guilty about him. He wanted Connor to go on without him. Connor didn't need him, anyway. He was capable enough on his own.

"I know I'm responsible for what happened, Lieutenant. I want you to know I'm sorry."

_'I'm sorry, too, Connor,'_ Hank thought, eyes downcast. He looked at Cole.

"You should stop looking at that photo, Lieutenant. Nothing can change the past... But you can learn to live again. For yourself... And for Cole."

He couldn't. Not any more. "Y'know, every time you died and came back... It made me think of Cole..." Hank didn't have the heart to tell him how he had begun to see him and Cole as the same, as his son. "...I'd give anything to hold him again... But humans don't come back." His self-control was slipping. He needed Connor gone before he did it in front of him.

"Hank, I-"

"Now leave me alone... Go on, complete your mission, since that's all you care about." Hank saw how Connor looked away, closing his eyes, clearly recognising a dismissal when he heard one. A part of him screamed at Connor to not go, but a much larger part of him was tired, exhausted from putting up with all of this for so long.

" _Get outta here_!"

_'Don't be here when I finally end it all. I don't want you to remember me like that.'_

Connor hesitated, but he eventually made to leave. Hank counted each footstep. The door opened and closed shut. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the loaded gun. All bullets loaded this time.

Placing the barrel underneath his chin, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Twitter - Writing Updates / General Updates](https://twitter.com/xyrilyn)


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